Secret Life of the Asgardian Shapeshifter
by LaylanatorXVII
Summary: "This is a terrible plan. It will never work. Loki is going to get Sif back for this, he swears." My version of the Sleipnir story. If you don't already know what that entails, read the warnings. Please leave a review: I'm desperate to know what you think. Thanks and enjoy. Don't own SLOTAT, never even seen the show.


_A/N: Hello, here I am again. I figure that as long as I have these myths on my flash drive I might as well post them and see if anybody's interested. Shrug._

 _This story is fraught with my strange writing style, which includes kinda-sorta fourth-wall breakage (let's call it an extremely omniscient narrator who just so happens to be an irreverent smartass, shall we?) and anachronisms that were put there on purpose. Okay? Okay. Purists, go somewhere else. Don't take this too seriously._

 _Also, when I wrote this I was unaware other people knew these myths. Keep that in mind as you read._

 _._

 _ **WARNINGS: This story contains allusions to a dubiously consensual sexual encounter between what are technically two horses. But, if you were familiar with this myth when you clicked on it, you would have known that already. I will go into no detail, because that would be gross. The Vikings were freaks. If this bothers you, get out while you can. Also, cursing. Because I have the mouth of a drunken sailor.**_

 _ **.**_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _Nobody owns Norse mythology, including me. If there happens to be someone off in Norway somewhere who still worships these gods… Um, sorry? Oh, and since I tend to make random references, if you recognize it, I don't own it._

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 _May be influenced by the Marvel movies in some places. You are warned. Also, I sort of fell in love with line breaks, so if there's too many, sorry, not sorry._

 _._

 _Constructive criticism is accepted, though I might not agree._

 _Flames will be used to heat my house. Because, damn, it was cold this morning._

* * *

This story takes place in a place called Asgard, home of the Norse gods. These gods included, but were not limited to (seriously, these people had a god for snowshoes) Odin, Thor, and (my personal favorite) Loki. Those were the main ones. Loki was the god of mischief, among other things, and was the main cause of strife and conflict in many of the Norse myths. As a result, he was viewed as something similar to how Christians would perceive Satan. Except, you know, Loki was actually a whole lot nicer.

To compound his reputation as a distasteful sort, several myths center on Loki and his monstrous children (their words, not mine). For example, there was Jormungradr, a giant serpent; Fenris, a giant bloodthirsty wolf; Hel, queen of the dead and the underworld, whose body just so happened to be half-rotten; and the one this story centers on, Sleipnir.

Oh, but THIS freaky kid was special. As a horse with eight legs, a disturbing concept in itself, he was pretty weird. But when you take into consideration that Loki was Sleipnir's _mother_ instead of his _father,_ everything just gets even weirder. But let us move on so that I can explain how this bizarre circumstance came to be.

* * *

I now skip forward to the gods and their woes. You see, in the Norse creation myth, there was a giant named Ymir. And he was, well, giant. He made up basically the whole universe with his corpse (yes, you are allowed a shudder; according to the myth, Midgard, or Earth, is made out of the giant's eyebrows) and out of his sweaty, disgusting armpit, grew the Frost Giants. And since they had such a nasty beginning, I guess it isn't a surprise that they grew a little bitter of the gods and their squeaky clean origins (well, squeakier clean, since childbirth is a pretty disgusting process). And, thus, the gods and giants were mortal enemies and constantly at war. At this particular snippet in time, let's say the giants were on the rise.

* * *

So on Asgard there's a chaotic rush of activity as everyone tries to prepare for the next encounter with the Frost Giants. Odin, the king of the gods, is in his throne room huddled around one of those little scale model tables pushing miniature ships around and discussing strategy with his son, Thor, who, in his anxiety, keeps inadvertently zapping everyone with electricity every time they touch something metal. (Thor is anxious not because he fears impending doom, but because he fears he will soon be asked to make an intelligent decision. Strategy simply was not his forte.) Frigga is dutifully cleaning armor and weapons in the corner like a good goddess-wife should, ignoring the constant shocks from the gauntlet in her hands. (Living with Thor sort of caused one to become accustomed to such things over time.) Freya, the cause of the huge mess to come, was supposed to be helping her, but gave it up in favor of fixing her hair by way of the shield's reflective surface. Of course, the shield shocked her as well, but, as she declared loudly every time it did (hint, hint, Thor) one must suffer for fashion. Heimdall, the gate-keeper and overall security measures for the whole joint, was gazing gravely out the window. (Then again, Heimdall gazed gravely at everything, including puppies, babies, and his own mother.) Other, smaller gods that I have neither the inclination nor the patience to name (Ull, for example, the god of skiing and snowshoes. Lame.) buzzed about doing this and that for the cause.

Loki was slumped in the corner, feet propped up on a chair, asleep. Technically, he was supposed to be doing Thor's job and helping with strategy, but between evil planning, dealing with his insufferable ex-wife, Glut, who would NOT get off his back about the child support (Yes, he was aware that he had two daughters by the name of Eisa and Einmura, thank you very much. He was there when they were born, after all, and he wasn't likely to forget that experience, as the girls promptly burst into flames after leaving the womb, and nearly gave him a heart attack. Glut had not seen it necessary to warn him of any such happenings. This is what he got for marrying a fire demon. And she wondered why he wanted a divorce.), and being dragged from his sleep in the wee hours of the morning by a much-too-cheerful god of Thunder, he was not up to advising at the moment.

So when Heimdall rumbled in his grim voice "Someone is coming" and everyone freaked out, Loki didn't stir.

* * *

Odin dropped the nifty little pusher-thing and crushed his paper armada; Thor dropped his hammer, which proceeded to fall through the floor and three stories; Freya screamed and promptly swooned: no one bothered to catch her; Frigga alone remained calm. As everyone else ran back and forth grabbing things (in some cases such things as bananas, or other equally useless and unhelpful objects) and then throwing them back down for no reason it seemed, and, in Thor's case, running to the stairs to retrieve his hammer (although he could have simply held out his arm and it would have flown into his hand, much like a boomerang), Frigga walked to the window beside Heimdall and looked out.

"It's not a Frost Giant, dear."

Those six words snapped Odin out of his frantic reverie of alternatively putting on armor (which he was having understandable difficulty with, seeing as he was trying to put his bracers on his calves and his greaves on his forearms instead of the other way around) and frantically trying to piece together his crushed paper ships. He finally realized that he was trying to force his helmet onto his knee and dropped it. Coughing, he tried to resume his composure as everyone else stilled and quieted too, looking rather embarrassed in their own right as they found themselves wielding a left sock for a weapon or something equally strange.

"Well, who in Valhalla is it, then?!"

"I don't know."

"Well, that's helpful."

"Of course. Perhaps we should try your approach."

Odin paused at her arched eyebrow and snappy comeback. "You have been spending too much time around Loki."

It was then that Heimdall decided to put in his two cents. "I believe he builds walls. I have seen him at it time and again."

Everyone took a moment to ponder the fact that while Heimdall could literally see everywhere in the Nine Realms (except for that convenient blind spot by Thor's bed, but that's a plot hole for another story) yet chose to watch people build walls.

"Um…" Someone began, probably on the verge of committing the fatal flaw of questioning Heimdall's methods of security and thus ending their lives, but was saved by the appearance of a servant running in and announcing that the Wall Guy was asking to speak to them.

* * *

The Allfather, as usual when hearing out a citizen, was sitting in the throne room which the other gods- except Loki, who was still snoozing unnoticed in the corner- had vacated …which was in a rather embarrassing state of disarray. The little table with the strategic models was covered in scraps of crushed paper. Armor had been hastily stowed under tables in a pitiful attempt to hide it from view. Not to mention the large hole in the floor where Thor had dropped his hammer. Speaking of which, Thor wasn't back yet. Where on Asgard could that boy have gone? Hadn't he realized by now that he could simply summon his hammer? Sometimes Odin worried about that boy…

Odin's musings about whether that little bump on the head when Thor was a baby (read: Odin dropped him down the stairs; Frigga never let him hold a child again) could have contributed to his son's dim-wittedness was interrupted by the opening of the doors to the throne room. A rather short, stout man entered before they closed.

Odin inspected the man before him, and came to this conclusion: he needed to lay off the yak butter.

The man was short, to the point that the average woman would have been eye-level with him, or even taller. He was, to put it delicately, on the rounder side of things, and nearly bald; only a slick black comb over stretched over the crown of his head. And for some strange reason, despite the slight chill inside the throne room (Wars cost money; they had to save on heating) and the outright cold outside, the man had sweat dribbling down his forehead and soaking the sides of his shirt. Even Odin, who was not exactly the poster child for personal hygiene himself, was grossed out.

"Um…" Odin coughed, trying not to breathe as the smell from the man drifted across the room. "You are?"

The man looked away from the rug thrown rather randomly in the middle of the floor (it was covering up the hole that Thor's hammer made) and up at Odin.

"Bill." ( _A/N: Don't ask. (-: )_ With this eloquent answer, he fell silent.

Odin rolled his eyes and went on. "You have a proposition for us, _Bill?"_

Again, Bill looked at Odin, maintaining eye contact just long enough to state, "You need a wall. I build walls."

This was beginning to grate on Odin's meager nerves. It was probably a good thing Thor was not here, or the man would probably have been dead already. Although it would be rather hypocritical of him, since Thor tended to speak in sentences of five words or less…

Odin thought a moment. Yes…a protective wall around Asgard would be a great advantage should the Snowmen from Hell strike again… It wasn't a bad idea at all, really. However….

"What do you want in exchange for your…services?"

* * *

It turned out the man could be _quite_ eloquent when it came to the matter of payment. So eloquent, in fact, that Odin was almost regretting the man's sudden verbosity.

"You want… _what?!"_ Odin spluttered incredulously. Which wasn't good for his image. I mean, did you ever see Agamemnon or Caesar splutter incredulously? No. But I digress.

Bill, now that he had made his demands, fell irritatingly silent once again.

Odin pondered the fact that his offspring caused more trouble without ever even trying than anybody else's did if they tried for thirty years. Freya was not going to like this.

* * *

Odin called the gods back into the throne room for a conference before making a decision. Astoundingly, Loki had remained asleep throughout the entire thing, and Thor was still nowhere to be seen.

After all the Aesir (minus the aforementioned exceptions) had settled noisily back into the room, he took a deep breath and began.

"Bill," Odin began, the unfamiliar European name the authoress had chosen, so different than the ancient Norse names, clumsily falling off his tongue, "has offered, for a… _price…_ to build a wall around Asgard as a defense against the Frost Giants."

There was a general clamor of agreement amongst the gods before the duller ones caught on to the ominous way he said "price" and shut up so he could drop the bomb. (Well, except Freya, as she kept chattering obliviously about her nails and makeup. Did I mention that she's blonde?***)

Odin figured it was better if she were distracted while he dropped the bomb.

"He wants the moon, sun, and Freya as payment."

Freya's head snapped up like a golden retriever when hearing the word tennis ball or Thor when he hears the word "mutton." (Nudge, wink, wink, nudge to readers of other stories _If, in fact, there are any, which I doubt. Sad._ )

"WHAT?!" She screeched in a very unladylike and unattractive way.

Everyone flinched and covered their ears. In the corner, Loki twitched and muttered something rather uncomplimentary about his wife but didn't wake up.

* * *

Odin sat, yet again, on his throne, waiting for the guards to usher Bill in for negotiations. The only difference this time was that the rest of the gods were in the room with him (minus Freya, who had had to be dragged kicking and screaming off of Odin, who was now sporting some rather sore eardrums and scratched forearms that had traces of pink nail polish in the furrows of the wounds. It was assumed that she would _not_ be consenting to "take one for the team."). Loki was _still_ cutting logs in the corner and Thor was _still_ nowhere to be seen.

Bill came strolling back in and Odin mentally prepared himself for another conversation with the worst conversationalist on the planet.

"Bill, I am afraid that your demands are simply too high. We are willing to pay you a substantial amount of-"

"I made my demands."

Odin briefly considered smiting him for having the audacity to interrupt him, but then remembered that Frigga threatened to stage a coup d'état the next time she had to replace the carpet because he smote an enemy in the house _again._

So he took a deep breath, gritted his teeth in a very fake looking smile and said through his clenched jaw, "I am afraid that is not possible."

Then Heimdall made a suggestion.

"We give you three days to complete the wall. If you do not finish within the allotted time, we need not pay you."

The way Heimdall said it made it sound more like a demand than a suggestion, and since everyone (including Odin) was a little scared of Heimdall (and since they had no better ideas) no one objected.

Bill pondered for a moment. Well, actually, more like three minutes. At least long enough for a trickle of drool to begin snaking its way out of his mouth, grossing out everyone in the general vicinity.

Then: "Can I use my horse?"

The gods stared for a second. It seemed like such an ordinary question to have come out of three minutes of deliberation. It seemed completely innocent. Harmless, even.

Which is why they didn't trust it for a second.

Odin and the other gods swiftly assembled in a royal huddle of sorts, weighing their options. They swiftly came to a conclusion.

They must ask Loki. That was the old fallback, after all. When in doubt, ask the god of lies and deceit. No way can that go wrong, no.

…Where was Loki anyway?

* * *

Loki, as we all behind the fourth wall know, was asleep. For good reason. Between his home life, all the stuff going on with the Frost Giants, being torn between the dilemma of "Should I let the Frost Giants conquer the gods so I don't have to deal with their stupidity and damnable nobility and enjoy the chaos in the meantime?" or "Should I help the gods because if they lose I won't have anyone to aggravate?" and being dragged out of bed by Thor before daybreak, he needed to catch a few Z's.

Unfortunately, he was about to be woken in a rather abrupt and inconvenient manner.

You see, just after Odin said the dreaded sentence, "What do you think, Loki?"…

…Thor returned with his hammer.

Let me illustrate.

* * *

"What do you think, Loki?"

Just then, the door right next to Loki slammed open and Thor ran in with Mjolnir in his hand, bellowing "I AM HERE! WHERE ARE THE INTRUDERS WHO SEEK TO CONQUER ASGARD? I WILL KILL THEM ALL!"

Loki, startled from sleep by the loud noise, bolted upright, and now in that half-asleep, half-awake daze, shouted randomly, "YES! OKAY! BLOODY HELL, YOU CAN HAVE A HIGHER ALLOWANCE, YES! I AGREE! OKAY?!"

But, incidentally, the gods rather stopped listening after that first "YES! OKAY!" and promptly turned to Bill to set the terms while Loki just sat there wondering what the hell just happened and Frigga explained the situation to a crestfallen Thor, who was devastated that he wasn't going to get to bash some heads.

* * *

So, by no fault of Loki's (actually, in Norse mythology, he did get them into this mess, but frankly, I didn't think it was like him, and—for God's sakes, people—he gives birth to a horse later. Cut him some slack.), they were now in the worst sort of situations—a binding legal contract.

But—Loki thought later as he nursed a cup of cold coffee, waiting for his hearing to return (when they say Thor had a "booming voice" they meant the kind of "boom" they heard on Hiroshima.)—How much could the use of a dumb animal tip the scales, really?

* * *

A lot, Loki reflected in horror as he watched the accelerated progress of the horse from a balcony in Odin's (castle? Palace?) royal dwelling. In a single day Bill and his horse, a hulking grey creature that stood over nine feet tall, had completed over a third of the wall. By noon the second, more than half was completed, and they were making their way steadily to two-thirds completion.

The gods, as you can imagine, were panicking.

Odin and the other gods were gathered yet again in the throne room of le Royal Dwelling, holding yet another conference. Unfortunately, this one was going about as well as the last had gone.

That is to say, there was a lot of running around senselessly and screaming.

* * *

Odin had yet again taken solace in the arms of the strategy table and model paper ships. Thor was swinging his hammer to and fro anxiously, inadvertently smacking innocent bystanders in the face, and ergo, into the walls. Freya and Baldur were having a good cry together (not because of the situation, but because _New Moon_ had just come out and Edward had-le gasp- left Bella! Oh no!) Frigga and Heimdall seemed to be the only ones actually doing anything productive, standing in the corner talking about possible courses of action while three feet away Thor's wife Sif was trying to coax her son, Ull out of the corner, where he was sucking his thumb and rocking back and forth.

Loki stood watching the chaos for a few moments, leaning against the doorjamb from the throne room to the balcony, torn between a profound pity for the obviously mentally impaired, and a sense that something very, very bad was going to happen.

Of course, the latter may have been spurred by the death glares that Sif was tossing him between "Come on out, honey's" and "Yggdrasil, Ull, you're a grown man for Ymir's sake! Don't make me come over there….!"s.

This feeling was confirmed when Sif abruptly decided that Ull was not snapping out of it anytime soon, straightened up and declared,

"What do _you_ think we should do about this, Loki?"

As Loki stood there, suddenly the main focus of the room, very much on the spot, he began to regret his actions all those years ago…

* * *

 _Loki felt a snicker threatening to escape and quickly stifled it in his forearm. In one hand he clutched his weapon of choice, and in the other, he slowly, silently, turned the knob of the door in front of him…_

 _When the gap between the door and the jamb had widened enough to accommodate his body, he slipped in and quietly eased the door shut, wary of any creak it might give. The situation would escalate quickly, and doubtlessly not in his favor, should his victim awake._

 _Loki turned away from the door to face the room within. It was dark save for a single candle on the vanity, which the occupant of the room had- rather irresponsibly, actually- left burning as they fell asleep. Regardless of the blatant fire hazard this posed, Loki was grateful, for it illuminated the space just enough for him to make out the bed, and in the bed his sleeping, unsuspecting target._

 _He crept over to the bed, taking care to avoid creaky floorboards or stray possessions on the floor that might raise a racket and compromise the entire operation. He'd been planning this for years; it wouldn't do to fail now that he was so close…_

 _Loki, finally to the bed, slowly leaned over and examined…Sif, blissfully unaware of his presence. Thor, at the moment, was away at Svartlfheim, the realm of the dwarves, dealing with some sort of uprising that was threatening the peace of the Nine Realms. This was no coincidence. Thor's presence would have made this much more difficult…_

 _Grinning sinisterly, Loki adjusted his grip on his weapon, lifted it towards Sif's face, into the light, revealing…_

 _…a pair of large kitchen scissors. (Yes, I am aware that the Vikings did not have scissors, but goddammit, Loki is a god. I think he's intelligent enough to invent scissors.) With his other hand he gently lifted a lock of Sif's long blonde hair, her claim to fame, and, shaking with suppressed giggles, snipped it off. He made quick work of the rest of her hair, until eventually there was a large pile of yellow hair all around the goddess on the bed. Loki, his work done, left the room and immediately dissolved into hysterical cackles._

* * *

Of course, after Thor had returned from the land of the dwarves, he had dutifully tracked Loki down and beaten the crap out of him, but oh, it had been worth it…

…until, of course, now, when it was becoming clear that Sif was decidedly _not_ over it yet.

Loki snapped back to the present at the words, positively _laced_ with venom, "After all, this is _your_ fault."

Now a normal person would have blinked bewilderedly and dropped their jaw and yelled, "WHAT?"

However, Loki would never stoop to something so undignified. Therefore, he simply blinked once, _somehow_ sardonically, and said smoothly, "I beg your pardon?"

Sif, not fazed by the lack of a satisfying reaction, (for, after all, they had been playing this game for eons, bitter foes. They had danced this dance before; she was as good as he, if not better.) simply widened her eyes and adjusted her stance in a convincing (to all except Loki, at least) imitation of innocence and said sweetly, ( _Sickly sweet_ , Loki thought) "Well, it was with your counsel that the Allfather agreed to allow Bill to use the horse…"

Dawning comprehension fell on the room as a whole (And wow, wasn't that an odd expression on Thor's face? Loki didn't believe he'd ever seen it before) and as the room began to slowly diffuse with understanding, and with it, anger, Loki glared at Sif, eyes narrowed, doing his damnedest to turn her into a steaming pile of ash with the force of his glare…and barring that, promising revenge…sweet revenge…

* * *

This was a stupid idea. It would never work. However, Loki didn't have much of a choice. After Sif… _kindly_ reminded everyone of the fact that it was, quote unquote, "Loki's idea", he had been forced to come up with a solution or face the consequences. Namely, death. While rather unoriginal, one must agree that it was indeed an effective threat. (Sometimes being the god of lies didn't pay off. Especially when you were telling the _truth_ about falling asleep during the meeting…but truth is stranger than fiction, and this time Loki's reputation was working against him.)

However, as stated, Loki didn't have much of a choice but to go through with this ridiculous plan. So, grudgingly, Loki transformed into a mare. Now, supposedly, he was a "beautiful" mare. I'm not into horses, so I can't judge, but we'll hold to that.

So what was this strange plan that involved Loki randomly turning into a chick? And not just a chick, a female horse? Well, let me tell you…

Bill's horse, Svadilfari (I pronounce it SVA-DILL-FAR-EE), was a dude. And we all know dudes' minds are on one thing and one thing only.

And it wasn't building walls so your master can get _his_ lady-friend.

So, the plan was that Loki would turn into the mare, prance around a bit and show off his glamorous horsey-beauty (Yes, it was as ridiculous as it sounds) and shower his hotness all over Svadilfari. Then the plan was to run like hell for the treeline. There, Thor would knock Svadilfari out with Mjolnir and Loki would go and mourn that part of his masculinity that was severely damaged by this whole affair.

It couldn't _possibly_ go wrong, could it?

* * *

Loki, now in mare form, cautiously stepped out of the shadow of the Royal Dwelling. (Yeah, I haven't come up with a better name. Palace sounds too frivolous and colorful, and castle just sounds too fairy-taley… and yes, dammit, that is a word!) He slowly walked into the sunlight and looked around. About twenty yards away from him was Svadilfari, lugging blocks over to Bill, who was laying them at a speed that made Loki slightly dizzy. About a hundred yards behind them was the tree line.

Loki took a deep, stabilizing breath, thought briefly, _This is so stupid_ , and walked out into the open.

Feeling more than a little foolish, Loki began to half-heartedly scamper around, wondering why they couldn't have simply released a REAL female horse to seduce Svadilfari. Svadilfari took no notice of Loki's meager attempts at coquetry. Hanging his head in humiliation (and it took a lot to embarrass Loki) he thought, _Damn it. Sif will never let me live this down. Here goes nothing._

He braced himself, and his masculinity, for the humiliating spectacle that he was about to make of himself, and slowly cantered over to Svadilfari. When he was about ten feet away, Svadilfari raised his head and turned it in Loki's direction.

Loki began to get a very bad feeling about all this, but passed it off as nothing more than the fact that he was trying to seduce a horse, and could feel nothing less than "mortified" about this entire thing, and therefore "bad" was an understateme-

Loki turned and ran as Svadilfari suddenly registered the fact that there was an eligible female in the general facility that wasn't actively running away from him and decided that, after all, weren't those all the requirements for romance?

Loki ran for the tree line, half stunned that the plan actually worked, and half mortified beyond belief. I mean, "I seduced a horse" isn't exactly something you want to have bragging rights about…

The trees on the outer edge of the forest seemed to grow in Loki's vision as he ran in its direction, hearing the heavy footsteps of Svadilfari following close behind and the outraged shouts of Bill left hanging out to dry beside the half-constructed wall. Loki scanned the tree line, the sinking feeling in his stomach increasing as he thought: _Where the hell is Thor?!_

* * *

Thor, as it turned out, had fallen asleep sometime during Loki's lollygagging in executing the plan. I mean, doing something like this had to have taken a lot of psyching-up prior to the deed. And Thor, like Loki, earlier in the story, seemed to be able to sleep through anything, so when Loki came tearing into the woods, not thirty feet away from him, Svadilfari still on his heels, he didn't wake. In fact, he didn't wake up until noon the next morning.

* * *

The gods sat gathered in the throne room, awkwardly fidgeting as they waited for Bill to arrive. Loki was nowhere to be seen. The general consensus was that he must have retreated back to one of his (no doubt many) lairs to nurse his wounded masculine pride, so no one was really concerned.

However, when a rather pissed-off Jotun around eleven feet tall and sporting a familiar combover hairdo came busting down the door, they found themselves very concerned.

Yes, the Jotun was Bill, who had decided that hell, might as well make a profit off this whole "war" enterprise, and so he had shapeshifted into a less suspicious character and decided to royally screw the gods out of their sun, moon, and goddess of beauty all in one shot.

And he was angry at the gods' tactics. Something tells he didn't appreciate the irony.

So, when the big guy comes in ready to steal the women and precious metals, Thor does what he does best:

He cracks his head open with Mjolnir.

Yep, one well-aimed clobber and Bill's brain matter is splattered all over the walls and, hilariously, Sif, who just happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

A rather anticlimactic ending if you ask me, but I don't believe I've ever written an action scene before and get the strong suspicion that I would suck at it. Also, the myth didn't really expand on it either, so I am not at fault!

* * *

After Loki didn't show up for a couple of days, no one really worried. They didn't see much of him after all, and they figured he was still nursing his pride and marking down the entire thing in his "Get the Gods Back" diary. Loki always denied owning any such thing, and strongly held that it was a ridiculous notion, spread by his enemies as disparaging propaganda, and, anyway, it was a _journal_ , thank you very much.

After a couple of weeks, they figured he was plotting.

A month, and they began to wonder.

By the third month of Loki's disappearance, no one went anywhere without a weapon on their person and jumped at every shadow.

And when Loki showed up almost a year later, looking haggard, pale, thoroughly traumatized, covered in dirt and leaves, and broke Thor's nose with his own hammer, everyone was shocked.

Of course, this may have been more because of the eight-legged colt stumbling happily after Loki than anything the man had actually done.

However, it was to noone's surprise when Sif woke up bald six weeks later.

 **The End**

* * *

***I'm blonde, so I'm allowed to make blonde jokes.

 _A/N: Please review? I know it's undignified to beg, but... Please please please please please? I swear, I will love you forever. Even if it's just an "I like it."_

 _Thanks for reading._


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